


In Public View

by Revival_Push



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Amoral Characters, Angst, Car Accidents, Catholicism, Depression, Disasters, Friendship, Humor, Insecurity, Morally Ambiguous Character, News Media, One Shot, Pre-New 52, Religion, Reporters, Rescue Missions, Social Media, Speed Force, young adulthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13698204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revival_Push/pseuds/Revival_Push
Summary: Everyday life, and then some. Because in the age of social media, smart phones, and a 24 hour news cycle even heroes have to deal with being in the public view, even when they really wish everyone would just leave them alone.A series of one-shots.





	1. Drive Through

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.

"Welcome to White Castle. What's your crave?" The voice was young, female, and bored. "Can I interest you in –"

Roy examined a patch of dry blood plastered to his temple, "Not tonight, thanks. I'll have two cheese sliders combos, four western barbecue sliders, four jalapeno cheese sliders , three bacon cheese sliders combos, four loaded fries, three chicken sliders, three orders of mozzarella sticks, and four milkshakes. And can I please get get extra napkins?"

"Sir?’

“Did you get that?”

“Yes, sir, but-”

Roy rubbed the base of his neck, trailing his fingers across where he'd caught some piping against a few hours ago. "And whatever doesn't have caffeine in it is good for the combo drinks." Talk about your rough landings. "And coffee. Two coffees. One with two creams, one black." How long have they been awake now? Two days? Two and a half? Roy was so damn tired he felt like he might vomit.

The lady on the other end of the speaker gave out a little huff. "One moment please.”

"Mmmhuh." Roy wondered if they'd have to re-break Wally's finger. Roy really only had a few seconds to try to reset the damn thing before they were on the move again. But did you really need full range movement for pinkies anyway?

The speaker crackled to life, "Kid, what are you pulling here?"

Roy rested his chin against the wheel. From the back Robin mumbled something about the man being in the state of un-whelmedness. Even for Robin that was stretching it. Kid needed some sleep. "Excuse me?" They all did. Instead Roy was out and about with a haggle of teenagers still too young to even have a license but apparently old enough to fight glorified sewage Godzillas on a school night. 

"You heard me! Now get out of here before I call the cops."

Roy yawned hugely and slowly crept the car up to the second window. The manager was waiting with an irritated expression and a disgusted grunt at the pretty red car as it rolled in, only to have his scowl drop as soon as he caught sight of the damaged vehicle.

There was a certain sadness in the death of a nice car. Bullets and street lights are bitches on the hardware. 

And then the guy saw Roy and his mouth dropped so fast it was almost comical."S-Speedy?"

Roy frowned. He was too tired for this. "It's Red Arrow now."

The manager stared. 

"So, how about that order?" He jerked his thumb to the slumped form of Kid Flash, half lidded and smearing the passenger seat with weird, blackish mud, "Kid needs to refuel before heading out again."

The manager blinked.

"It's been a long day, you know," Pointedly, Roy raised his eyebrows and gave a little waive in the direction of the general mayhem, "and it's not over yet."

The manager nodded dumbly, "Of course. Yeah, right away."

A small murmur came from the back seat. Already past the repercussions point, the manager tipped his balding head through the drive through window just enough to catch sight of a small black and red figure laying face-down across the seat.

Roy sighed. "Hey, you guys have any pie left?"


	2. The Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.

**1:37 am, Gotham**

Robin was tired. He'd been at the Mountain for almost two weeks straight, hunched over a keyboard and writing new programming codes for older software the League wanted updated six months before they’d even asked him.

There had been a time when Robin would have jumped at the chance to help the League in this way. Coding was one of those hobbies he liked to flex his fingers at _._ But now all he could see was something keeping him from the streets. And now...Now he couldn’t stand to sit still, couldn’t stand to not being on the move...   

" _Now boys. Boys. They have this sort of attitude to them, you know? Like in the way they walk, '_ Hurrrrghhhh!' _and then they stretch their arms all out, "Look, mom! I'm a man!" –only they're still three feet tall and have a face full of peach-fuzz. Now what's really funny is when they start checking the girls out. They'll be hanging with their 'homies' all cool and suddenly this girl and her friend will walk by and they'll all just freeze. '_ Oh, yeaaaaahh, momma _.'"_

It wouldn't have been that bad if he'd been allowed to do it on his own time instead of practically being locked away in that room for a week and a half…

" _Of course girls have the attitude thing too. The prissy finger-flaring walk, and then the_ 'You. Have. Made. Me. Upset.' _Now when I was in high school I wasn't too bright when it came to girls. When they got like that I'd say something like,_ 'Well, I'll try not to lose any sleep then.' _Ha! Yeah… Yeah, teenagers are great."_

Okay, okay. To be fair, it wasn't like they could just call up Geek Squad for something like this –and most of the League members with the ability to rewrite it properly were too valuable to pull from the field like that. And he had the time.  

And he was almost done.

Job well done.

And the air was crisp and icy outside, like biting into a particularly sharp apple with every passing breeze.

Still, no one, not even him, appreciated going from being perched on an uncomfortable swivel chair for ten hours to being jarred against a bumpy road on a motorcycle.  

_So there was this one kid –eighteen years old– and he's driving down this highway in Arizona, and he suddenly sees a pair of head lights heading right towards him. And they're coming fast. Too fast. So he tries to get out of their way, turn the wheel real hard. Only the car loses control and my little brother Tommy ends up smashing into the off ramp at seventy-fives miles per hour."_

Robin had been trying to loosen his shoulders a bit to keep himself from getting too tense and over-steering the bike when he first heard the music.

Loud, angry, and _close_. So close.

" _He hit it so hard that his body snapped_ the seat belt in two, _and he flew forwards into a two-ton impact of wall_ . _It took them two hours to pick all of him up. It turns out the other car was full of kids, the average age being thirteen or fourteen years old. They had been drinking, smoking, and were on other drugs. They laughed as they drove away from my brother, rowdy and then just gone."_

Robin caught view of a sporty white car as it rounded the corner behind him practically _sideways_ and accelerated forwards.

Hurriedly, Robin flashed his brights twice in succession, but the driver either didn’t take the hint or didn’t see.

_Shit shit shit._ He was running out of options. He couldn't switch over into the next lane because of the incoming traffic and he couldn't make it to the next right hand turn fast enough without becoming pavement dust from the turn.

There was nowhere to go.

His heart beat in rapid succession. The adrenaline was familiar and craved but turned sour in his veins with a type of fear he didn’t quite feel familiar with.  

" _In court they received_ three months' probation. _Three months'_ probation _for Tommy's death. They said they were too stoned and drunk to be responsible for what happened. So whose fault is it then! Whose it to blame for Tommy? Who killed my brother?"_

Behind him the music blared, loud and louder still. Someone was laughing and trying to shout in time with the already unintelligible lyrics. Cars to his left swerved away from of the car behind him, fearing he'd cross over into their lane. 

Robin's breathing sped. Trapped. He was trapped. He couldn’t control this.

" _Who killed him?"_

The only place to go was into a wall or under that car. He couldn't slow down without being hit, couldn't look too hard without risking them gaining on him. Somewhere in front of him was a shop with glass windows. The metal bars weren't too thick, right? With the bike in front…

He would probably die, but it was all he had.

" _So they get off because they couldn't be held responsible. Oh, they were responsible for his death. They_ chose _to drink and drive. They_ chose _to get high and then get behind the wheel. They chose, and my brother died because they_ chose wrong."

Robin accelerated and clinched the bike hard with his legs, the slight reflection of glass coming into view, the sidewalk and road that separated him from it looking so much farther than he remembered it being…

" _So what do I have to do? Do I have to beg?_ _Please_. Please. _Just don't. Okay? Just don't decide that for other people, for fathers and mothers and brothers and sisters. Friends, sons, daughters. It's not fair that he's dead. It's not fair and I can't bring him back and they can't do it either. He's just gone."_

Robin let out a roaring scream that melted into the sound of the engine and hurdled his bike over the curb...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The italicized story is a paraphrased version Gary Zelesky gave to my graduating class in high school nearly ten years ago. Mr. Zelesky is a public speaker, author, and comedian. The victim was his teenage brother. 
> 
> Leave a message after the ___.


	3. The Last Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.

The figure slipped into the confessional like a fox slips into a bush. Before Father Delgado even opened his mouth to say his welcome the would-be confessor gave a sharp inhalation and in a rush of air spoke in a quiet, steady voice, “Bless me Father, for I save sinned. It’s been seven years since my last confession. I, of my own free will, have committed a mortal sin.”

Father Delgado gave the parrishner a moment, and then,“Will you confess your sins before God?”

Through the screen dividing the two Father Delgado could see in his peripheral vision a jerked nod, “I’ve killed a man.”

He would never show it, especially in a city like Gotham, but Father Delgado felt a certain alertness one feels after a near-miss car accident. But it was Gotham, his city, and this isn’t the first confessor to ask him to absorb a great violence. “Why?”

“Because I knew he was going to murder an innocent woman, and I couldn’t live with myself if I let her die.”

Father Delgado gave an unconscious nod that his confessor couldn’t see. “Was there another way?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel remorse for your actions?”

“No.”

“You’ve come to confess your sins to God. You must feel some remorse.”

“I feel immoral for the man I’ve become.”

“It’s never too late to step back into the light.” And though Father Delgado surely could not see it he felt very clearly the confessor smile in his silence. For some reason he couldn’t quite name Father Delgado stopped himself from recommending the man seek the forgiveness of men also. Somehow Father Delgado it wasn’t an option the man would consider.

“Will God forgive me? For killing in the name of helping those who cannot help themselves?”

“God forgives all.” And then he reminded the confessor, “But God sees all, too.”

“Yes. He does.”

The pair sat there for several empty seconds before the confessor spoke again, “I seek forgiveness for my sins, the sins I have committed and the sins I’ve yet to commit. I feel remorse for becoming someone I don’t know. I feel remorse for turning from God seven years ago, during my last confession. I feel remorse knowing I’m about to do it again.”

And Father Delgado couldn't help but wonder, was it one of  _them_? In the end, here and now, it didn't matter. Instead of pressing the Priest replied, “You are a child of God. You may turn from Him, but He will never turn from you. Recite two Hail Mary’s everyday for the next six months and serve those who cannot help themselves in a manner of peace and gentle spirit.” Father Delgado softened his voice, “I have it on good authority the Soup Kitchen could use a helping hand, and that there is a community service outreach for cleaning the park next to St. Xavier’s. Will you sit with me and make an Act of Contrition?”

There was a gentle rustling through the screen.

“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to good, I have sinned against You, whom I should love above all things. Our Savior, Jesus Christ, suffered and died for us. In His name, my God, have mercy.”

Father Delgado did not mention the confessor failed to mention his intention to sin again. Instead he prayed, “God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of His Son, has reconciled the world to Himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. Through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon and peace. I absolve you from your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”

Father Delgado waited for the confessor to affirm, but no Amen followed his prayer. He smiled in a sadness this cold city knew so intimately. “God has forgiven your sins. Go in peace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a message after the ___.


	4. Out of the fire...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.

Fires sucked. They were, in a sense, worse than the crazy villains prancing around in brightly colored spandex, threatening to blow up/destroy/take over/kidnap/rob/kill/vandalize or whatever. They sucked because they were not a force of thought, but a force of nature.

And Wally hated fires. He was afraid of them, if he’s being honest.    
  
Just  _ took took took _ .   
  
Wally was so sick of this.   
  
He had been feeling a little out of it lately. Nothing so bad. Just moody, so Dick had told him earlier to throw on the civies and get ready to head out.  _ You need to clear your head, dude.  _ But Wally was just so damn tired. But whatever. Out of one flame and into another. Because  _ that  _ helps.   
  
Also... Also, no one else on the team knew about the divorce. Not even Artemis.   
  
Of course, technically, and as far as his parents were concerned, neither did he. In fact, he was pretty sure they were going to tell him tonight.   
  
Tonight.

Fucking icing on this shitshow cake.   
  
And really, after being stuck with him for nineteen years Wally’s parents really ought to know better ways to hide crap from him. But why not? No one’s being honest these days. Wally lies  _ everything’s fine _ . Uncle Barry lies  _ Bart isn’t here to replace you _ . Dick pretends trailing behind the big bad Bat isn’t changing him into someone,  _ something _ , that he never wanted to become. His parents pretend they’re happy. And they all keep going because God knows what happens when it all stops.    
  
Yeah, tonight was going to  _ suck _ .

  
And then the fire.

Because then the fire was so much worse than they thought.    
  
Wally and Dick had frozen for an instant, just smelling the trail of heavy ash in the air as the fire raged a few blocks down, clearly visible from one of the upper floors of an apartment building. Dick had actually taken a step towards the building before Wally got ahold of him and called in to HQ.  _ Help help help _ .    
  
And then, even though Dick really was getting kinda big and people were always making fun of them for it, he let Dick latch his arms around his shoulders and press his no-longer-quite-so-boney knees into Wally's sides.   
  
And Wally ran.   
  
Run run run.

Because that was all he was good for these days.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
  
The air was heavy to breathe, thick and scorching his throat as he inhaled. It made him dizzy. God, Wally hated fires. The heat pressed down on him, surrounding the skin like a smothering blanket. Embers burned his face like hellish snowflakes and formed trails down the arms of the flame resistant material of his uniform.   
  
Wally looked up and saw Dick crawl half through the second story window he broken, cape held over the lower half of his face as he assessed the situation. "You take left and we stay on the comms by the minute." Wally nodded, gone before Dick even finished his sentence.    
  
It was bad but Wally didn’t think the building was going to collapse just yet, which was less bad. But then again the thing was a freaking fortress of plexiglass windows that for some ungodly reason wouldn’t open after the second floor. It hurt to breath, the heat of the air burned his lungs and his eyes watered uncontrollably.   
  
Wally West really, really didn't like fires.   
  
Good thing Kid Flash clearly loved them, otherwise he was sure he wouldn't constantly seem to bump into the nearest object caught in the flames.   
  
Wally groaned after a particularly jolting run-in with what he supposed to be a new kitchen appliance still waiting in the hall outside someone’s apartment. This so wasn't how he had wanted to spend tonight.   
  
Hot flakes of wall or burning something stuck to his face like tacky glue that couldn't be wiped away and everything smelled so bad Wally found himself gagging every other inhalation.   
  
_ Run run run _ .   
  
It wasn't a big space, but he couldn't see too well, even with his goggles.  _ Where the fuck was everyone?  _ Wally’s gone through five floors and  _ nothing. _   
  
"KF!"   
  
Wally whirled around and followed the sound of Dick's hoarse voice through the smoke. As soon as he was in front of him Dick was practically throwing a very out-of-it woman at him. "Get her down!"   
  
Wally gripped the woman by her waist and tried to be gentle when he tossed her over his shoulders. She coughed faintly and with a pitiful mewl she gasped, "My daughter locked herself in her room."   
  
"Don't worry," Dick told her, "I'll get her out."   
  
Wally felt her give a small nod against his back, even though no one could see it. Then, even more quietly, "My son…"   
  
Dick turned his head as his mouth turned into a stiff line. He didn't say anything.   
  
Wally didn't ask, and then he was running again.   
  
_ Run run run _ .   
  
In the time Wally had gotten the woman down safely and zoomed up to the sixth floor again Dick was at the apartment's exit, a bundle of wet blankets scooped up in his arms. "Girl." He informed him before turning back into the rooms, "Not breathing."   
  
Wally didn’t know how the hell Dick was managing. At least he was able to get a breath in on his trips down. But he nodded anyways, pressed the damp bundle close to his chest and didn’t think about how light it was and then took off again.   
  
These days it didn’t pay much to think about the things Wally West couldn’t do and couldn’t help.

  
  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-   


  
The blaze was getting worse, mostly concentrated on the top floor where Dick had found the family. The firefighters circling the building and spraying the flames seemed futile against the chaos. Wally heard someone yelling about protecting the buildings next door against the spread. He dropped the girl off into the waiting arms of a grim faced paramedic and didn’t watch him begin to work on her. 

Wally gave a few hyperventilation breathes and prepared himself to crash up to the sixth floor one more time. It was time to call it quits on this one.   
  
Wally immediately spotted the dim black shape stumbling down the hall. Up close Wally wasn't sure what to make of the look on Dick's face, blankly furious and looking vaguely homicidal as he struggled with a much larger person who appeared to be making an attempt at bashing-in Boy Wonder's head.   
  
"The girl?"

Wally didn’t dare release the breath of relatively clean air he was hoarding in his lungs, but gave a shrug in response.    
  
An odd look crossed over Dick’s face and he violently jabbed an elbow into the stomach of the dead weight he was dragging. Immediately the other boy tossed up his head and tried to shove Dick away. 

Wally reached out for the boy, half to jerk him away from Dick’s bizarre anger and half to get this lump positioned and ready to go. He was a big guy, almost Wally’s height but easily sixty or so pounds heavier. Wally wrapped one thick arm around his own shoulders and distributed the dead weight in a sort of half piggyback carry and cramped the other hand around Dick’s suddenly very solid-feeling rib cage. 

Dragging the kid to safety was an adventure in all of its own. Occasionally the lump would throw out a fist or launch a foot their way. Dick had given up on yelling at him, but threw the occasional jab his way.

Wally sped down the flights as quick as he could manage, but every step Dick seemed more and more uncoordinated and disoriented and Wally was getting dizzy from oxygen deprivation. The dead weight on his back might as well have been the building itself. 

But finally,  _ finally _ , there was air and noise and the flashing lights of police cruisers and firetrucks and Dick was inhaling scratchy breaths from the ground, half underneath Wally as he knelt above him. Hands groped his body and lifted the weight off his back and Wally rolled over on to his back beside Dick.  

Except suddenly Dick wasn’t there. 

Wally blinked past the too-bright lights around him until he caught sight of Dick whirling around on the teenager he and Wally had dragged down and shoved him backwards, "You fucking bastard! What the hell were you thinking?"   
  
The teen stumbled back a few steps and waved his arms out in an attempt to regain his balance before a pissed-off firefighter caught hold on him. Wally watched the small glazed eyes of the kid take Dick in, all hunched over with coughs and burns and fury. The large boy shook off the firefighter and took two heavy steps towards Dick and drew back a meaty fist. The punch never would have landed on Dick, smoke-dizzy slow or not. The boy was too uncoordinated in the aftermath.   
  
Wally scrambled to his feel and wrapped a hand around Dicks bicep, "Knock it off, Robin.”   
  
Dick jerked back with an angry hiss, "He started the fucking fire! He locked them inside!"   
  
Wally’s hand came away from Dicks arm wet and tacky.

Wally frowned. Dick scowled.   
  
And then teenager they rescued launched himself at Dick.   
  
Wally was on him before he fully realized what he was doing. He threw out an arm to block a meaty punch, yanked his raised hand above their heads. Wally was so shocked when Dick threw a balled fist into the kid’s rounded stomach he didn’t react. The kid doubled over and was suddenly being thrown over Wally's head in a whirling motion so fast he almost didn't realize it until he hit the ground.

“ _ Fuck _ .”   
  
Wally latched on to Dick and hauled him back from the prone lump on the ground.  _ Fucking fuck. _

This was too much. The stupid divorce and the stupid Speed Force and stupid him for not being faster, for not getting faster anymore and this stupid, stupid boy for starting something destructive and deadly and maybe killing a little kid tonight.   
  
But then flashing lights were surrounding him, and a pair of gloved hands on his shoulders turned him away from the light. "KF…"   
  
Another camera flash went off. Wally froze. The bright lights of news cameras were on them, other people occasionally clicking away on their phones. In the dark Wally could make out a few with the tell-tale red recording lights.   
  
Come for the fire, stay for the heroes losing their fucking minds.   
  
He hated that. The way the media pushed in on them, calling them good and bad, wrong and justified, incompetent and then tomorrow's leaders.

He didn't like the way his friends, his family of choice, could die at any moment of any day, possibly thousands and thousands of miles away from home or help.   
  
Or even Dick and the way his eyes were young and ancient at the same time. The way his body was scarred more than any sixteen year olds had a right to ever be. More scars were added this night. More could be added the next.   
  
And what was it all for anyway? Tonight a little girl is probably dead, and if not her, then someone else. He couldn't save her. He couldn't save his parent's marriage. What were they playing at? Saving people only so they could die another day? Child heroes falling in battles they never should have fought. The look of people in the Hall after a hero dies is awful. Pretending like something, someone, isn't missing. They always been told, right from day one to move forwards. As if they owed anyone anything.

Fuck this. Wally didn’t owe the world anything.   
  
_ Run run run _ .   
  
Maybe Wally West was finally done playing hero.   
  
"Come on, Robin, we're leaving."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a message after the ___.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a message after the ___.


End file.
